He fell in my arms.
Not in love, but fast asleep.
I fell the former.

And if your chest is warm then I envy your soul - to rest in such a safe and cavernous hole - and if your hands aren't ice cold then I envy the woman who gets to press her lips to your palms because mine like to chap and all too often my teeth tease my tongue, but the taste of blood is truly an acquired one. And sometimes I touch my fingers to my throat just to feel if there's a pulse - and most of the time there's not - but that doesn't mean I'm not living.

Because these are the days of the dead.

The dead who walk among us with blood and gasoline coursing through their veins and an inferno in their heart that you could not put out with a dozen of your big, red, fire trucks.

I have smoked
the bud
that was in
the stash box

and which
you were probably
saving
for after work

Forgive me
it was dank as hell
so dank
I'm faded

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
     universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
     reach my hands and play with pebbles of
     destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
     reading "Keep Off."

My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
     in the universe.

I'm in Love
with a man
whose love
for me
it seems
is wired
to a switch.
And
without warning
something
last night
caused it
once again
to flip.

It used to
lead me
to question,
if he gives
a **** at all-
But now
I just
passively wonder
how I go
about getting
one installed.

For solitude
is  less
intimidating,
than insecurity
and fear.
And laying
awake alone
is better
than company
that's
adjacent
but ultimately
insincere.

Even though
I should leave
I will place
my troubled
questions
in boxes
to forget
about tonight.
Endure the
deep breaths
and eye rolls
and stay
if only out
of sheer
stubbornness,
exhaustion,
or maybe
out of
spite.

Don't **** them with violence
because they will still win
don't **** them fast
because lord knows
they deserve pain
don't **** them with your words
they are too valuable to waste
on such ****
no if you really want to hurt them
then **** them with your smirk
every time they **** with you
raise a corner of your mouth ever so slightly
an "is that all you've got" smile
because everybody knows
you are stronger
smarter
better
than all of them
and it ****** them off
so **** them with smirks
and if that still isn't enough
well you can always just
**** on their graves afterwards

Don't let your kids grow up to be poets
because poets are a messy bunch
poets are the worst influences
they live in the thick of things
suspended in their own minds
and they are by a very large percentage
worth less than the clothes on their back
and they are all crazy
they all have to be
these mentally unstable babblers
they'd talk at anybody who'd listen
more like drunken tramps
than artists
so for the love of God
please don't let your kids grow up to be poets
because it's a rough time
you'd be better off keeping them in academia
that being said
upon reflection
would I have done it any differently?
not a ******* chance